Adopting God as THE answer.

This gig is really causing me to question my intelligence. I'm just not sure I'm smart enough to answer the non-stop barrage of questions. I mean, fuck, this lil' man thinks I have the answer for everything. I like to think that I know a little about a lot, but Jesus! Tonight it was fingernails, seems simple enough, right? You've got ten of them, one on each finger, they protect your fingers, they grow and you cut them, they get dirt under them and you clean them. Seems simple enough. But what do you tell a two year old when he asks, "Where do fingernails come from?" Fucked if I know. Do you know?

Anyway, I'm not a fucking biologist and I couldn't provide an answer. AND I've also learned that giving half-ass answers only inspires more difficult questions. Fortunately, the wifey was around to break the silence—she chimed in and said, "They come from your fingers." Yeah, no shit! This simplistic response certainly didn't answer the question for me, and I'm pretty freakin' sure the lil' man wasn't satisfied either. So ... where do fingernails come from?

Perhaps this is when God emerges as the answer to our individual deficiencies of knowledge. So ... "Where do fingernails come from?" Ummm. From God, silly. Damn! That was easy. I didn't have to think about it. I didn't have to feel dumb. I didn't have to use Google. Ahem. My job just got a whole lot easier.

There's no crying in fatherhood!

Fuck, fuck, Jesus, fucking, fucking holy fucking shit, pussy ass motherfucker!

My apologies. It's been awhile since my vulgar inner self has written.  I guess the looming election took hold of my mind and distracted me ... been thinking about Mormons, rape, my parents healthcare, the wifey's social security, gays being cured by sucking tits, wealthy people gaining more wealth, abortion, and equality.  Fortunately, at 8:36 this morning, the lil' man set me right by splitting my lip open with a sippy cup full of milk. I can only imagine what was going through his mind as he hucked the cup at my face, "Wake the fuck up daddy! Quit thinking about politics. Your life is about me!"

The rest of the day was ... ahh ... ummm ... let's just say, relentless. And after twenty consecutive minutes of two minute timeouts on a park bench. I (but first, I'd like to point out that I'm a pretty solid, even keel guy when it comes to emotion. I'm certainly no "man's man", but I'm tough on the inside.  A very passionate, sensitive and opinionated chap, but nothing really gets under my skin. There really isn't anything that would cause me to yell. There isn't anything that would frustrate me to the point of tears. Well, except for a certain political party ... nope. Not gonna go there.) wept in public. Did you get that? I didn't know what else to do. What else to say. Tears just started rolling down my fucking face.